


How Mariah Saved Christmas

by MapleLeafSquareRoot



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Fluff, Inspired by Music, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-11-25 14:57:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20913992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleLeafSquareRoot/pseuds/MapleLeafSquareRoot
Summary: Thank you to [beta to be revealed] for reading this over and the title!To the prompter, I hope you enjoy this bit of schmoop!All my love to the patrons of the Rosebudd.





	1. David

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [red_crate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/pseuds/red_crate) in the [SCFrozenOver](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCFrozenOver) collection. 

> Thank you to [beta to be revealed] for reading this over and the title!
> 
> To the prompter, I hope you enjoy this bit of schmoop!
> 
> All my love to the patrons of the Rosebudd.

**December 20**

David woke up uncharacteristically easily with his alarm on the first morning of Patrick’s absence. Full of conviction that he could handle five days alone while Patrick visited his family, he moved confidently through his morning routine. That is, until he dropped the lid to his toner into the toilet, discovered the bread had gone moldy, and he slipped on the last step leaving the apartment. David channeled the positive energy of his hyper-capable fiance, reminding himself that lids can be washed, breakfast can be purchased at the cafe, and no one seemed to have seen him slip and fall, minimizing any potential embarrassment or appearance on a townie’s Instagram story.

**December 21**

David had slept fitfully, so it was nearly a relief when his alarm went off. He tried to shake off the bad dreams that had plagued him all night - the worst combination of business women in sneakers, moths, and Patrick inadvertently machine washing his designer sweaters - and took a long hot shower. David left the apartment a little earlier than he needed to, to ensure he would have time to stop at the Cafe for his macchiato and scone. This had long since become his morning tradition, and the routineness of his order, small-talk with Twyla, and Ivan’s creepy stares reinforced the feeling that David was at home in this small town. 

**December 22**

Looking at the clock, David groaned. It was a mere 45 minutes before his alarm, yet he felt like he had barely slept a wink. Knowing his early-bird fiance was likely already up and conquering his day, he sent him a good morning text, before schlepping himself into the shower and reducing his elaborate skin care routine to the bare minimum. Eighteen minutes before the store was supposed to open, and ten minutes before he planned to leave, David hadn’t heard back from Patrick. Worried that his fiance had perhaps succumbed overnight to carbon monoxide poisoning, a random rabid ferret attack, or some combination of the two, he dialed Patrick’s number as soon as the apartment door was safely locked behind him. 

“David?” His fiance’s groggy voice answered after two rings. “Is something wrong?”

“Hi honey,” David replied breathlessly, relieved to hear he hasn’t been prematurely widowed by science and/or nature. “Nothing’s wrong. Just wanted to hear your voice before starting my day.”

**December 23**

This was getting ridiculous. David berated himself for having felt so magnanimous for ushering Patrick away to see his family the week before the holidays. Between the cold sheets next to him, the lack of Patrick’s light snores, and having to acquire his own coffee each morning, David was  _ done _ , and his fiance wouldn’t be home until late in the evening Christmas Day. Sweet texts scattered throughout the day, and long FaceTime chats before bed were just simply insufficient to sustain David. The brave face he wore while chatting with Patrick belied how much he was struggling without his fiance, but the last thing he wanted was Patrick to feel guilty for enjoying the holiday season with his family, now that his truth was fully known to them. 

**December 24**

_ Despondent. Bereft of affection. Probably malnourished and definitely under-moisturized.  _

A handful of good morning texts between he and Patrick, carefully curated words to ensure his fiance was none the wiser to his misery. Exactly 51 minutes until the store is to be open - not nearly enough time to mitigate the physical damage of the last four days, let alone garner the emotional energy for another day alone at the store. Digging into the depths of his flagging resiliency, David pulled himself out of bed, and threw on his most comfortable jeans with the ripped knees (winter, be damned) and coziest sweater. Though his reflection made him shudder, he couldn’t bring himself to do more than brush his teeth, and load his hair with enough product that it probably wouldn’t fall flat. He left the bed unmade, the empty wine bottle and pizza box on the counter, and an uncharacteristic pile of dirty laundry next to the bed. 

Not even the brilliant sun, working in opposition to the wind to warm his skin, could elevate David’s mood, as he walked to the cafe. Nor could Twyla’s enthusiastic and comedic retelling of last year’s Santa Claus Parade, where the Cafe float, adorned in paper mache, caught fire.

David’s phone vibrated with the notification mere moments after he entered the Apothecary.

Locking the door behind him, he set his macchiato and scone down on the counter, pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket, and unlocked the screen, opening the video message from Patrick. 

His jaw dropped at the sight of his fiance, sitting in front of the fireplace at Clint and Marcy’s home, clad only in a pair of forest green silk boxers, sporting a gigawatt smile with his guitar adorned with a big red bow resting on his knee. 

Looking straight into the camera, Patrick starts singing, adding in his guitar at the end of the first line.

_ I don't want a lot for Christmas _

_ There is just one thing I need _

David gasped. This is, by far, his favourite Christmas song, having heard Mariah Carey sing it for the first time as a teenage boy, full of angst and romantic ideations. 

_ Don't care about the presents _

_ Underneath the Christmas tree _

_ I don't need to hang my stocking _

_ There upon the fireplace _

_ Santa Claus won't make me happy _

_ With a toy on Christmas Day _

On “toy”, Patrick winked into the camera. 

_ I just want you for my own _

David looked down, fondly at his engagement rings. 

_ More than you could ever know _

_ Make my wish come true _

_ All I want for Christmas is you _

_ baby _

_ Oh I won't ask for much this Christmas _

_ I won't even wish for snow _

David looked outside with a grimace on his face. 

_ And I'm just gonna keep on waiting _

_ Underneath the mistletoe _

_ I won't make a list and send it _

_ To the North Pole for Saint Nick _

_ I won't even stay awake to _

_ Hear those magic reinde… _

The video glitches. “What? No!” David exclaimed, poking everywhere on the touch screen to no avail. The image of Patrick, singing mid-reindeer, is frozen on the screen.

David dropped his phone on the counter, head in his hands, hoping this wasn’t a harbinger of a difficult day.


	2. Patrick

**December 20**

For the first time in a very long time, Patrick did not wake until his alarm went off. Even then, he hit the snooze alarm an uncharacteristic six times, delaying removing himself from the warm covers, even if deep sleep had eluded him all night long. Even though he knew his fiance would likely still be sleeping, Patrick couldn’t help but send a good morning text. Much to his surprise, David replied nearly immediately with a selfie taken outside of Cafe Tropical, caramel macchiato in hand. Patrick’s heart swooped seeing the toothy grin on his fiance’s face, and any worries Patrick had about David’s first morning without him were put to rest. 

**December 21**

Patrick slept fitfully, so it was a relief when he heard Marcy get up around 6 am. He threw on a pair of sweats, and a hoodie and padded downstairs to join his mom in the kitchen for a cup of tea. This had been their ritual since he was a teenager, both enjoying the quiet of the early morning, the slowness of the rest of the world to awaken, and the comforting heat of a mug of their favourite steeped brew. Despite not feeling particularly well-rested, Patrick felt a sense of peace previously foreign to him in this space. He and Marcy chatted about everything and nothing, preparing for a full day of family visits, baked goods, and cheese balls.

**December 22**

The chorus of Tina Turner’s “The Best”, David’s custom ringtone, tinny on his iphone speaker woke Patrick up. Bleary-eyed and disoriented, Patrick looked at the time before answering the phone.

“David?” he croaked out, throat dry from spending the day before repeating story after story about his fiance. “Is something wrong?” 

It wouldn’t be until he hung up the phone that he saw the missed text an hour prior, and knew that David was really calling to make sure some ill-fated death hadn’t befallen him.

  


**December 23**

This was getting ridiculous. Patrick berated himself for thinking spending the week before Christmas, arguably one of the busiest at the store, was a good idea. But he had been anxious to spend time with his family, after the all-too-short visit for his birthday party, and David had been so insistent that it was _ fine _. Sure, they exchanged 200 text messages a day, and spent an hour before bed on FaceTime, but it was so woefully insufficient, and Patrick had fallen asleep the last two nights with a pit in his stomach, and an ache in his heart. He had stifled his emotion when David could see, not wanting to add to what was already a challenging week back home. The last thing David needed was to worry about Patrick.

**December 24**

_Mentally exhausted. Touch-starved. Definitely overfed and probably retaining quite a bit of water from all the rich food. _

It takes all of Patrick’s remaining mental energy to brush his teeth, though he could probably use a shave and stand to run a comb through his hair. But every minute spent in the bathroom of his childhood home equates to one-sixtieth of one hundred and ten kilometres per hour not spent moving towards the love of his life. And if Patrick hadn’t made it abundantly clear to his family the night before, he was so _ done _ being away from David. 

Clint and Marcy got up when they heard their son milling about, running the Keurig, filling his travel mug, and packing a couple of muffins and some fruit for the road. While they would always be sad to see the end of a visit with their son, Clint and Marcy had seen the tears well up the night before when he decided to return home early, the furrow in his brow release when they gave their (admittedly unnecessary) blessing, and the relief wash across his face when he was finally behind the wheel that morning. 

Patrick had thought about telling David he was coming home early, but if there were only two inalienable truths about David Rose, they were his propensity to feel guilty and undeserving when others sacrificed at his expense, and his love for romcoms meant a solid appreciation for grand gestures leading to happy endings. 


	3. Reunited

The faint sounds of a guitar strumming caused David to lift his head. Had he left the store music playing last night? Were there carolers making early rounds in downtown Schitt’s Creek? No, this was coming from within the Apothecary. 

Heart thumping wildly in his chest with a combination of anxiety and anticipation, David pulled back the curtain leading to the back of the store.

There, sitting on the couch, was Patrick, looking fatigued, rumpled, but downright  _ perfect _ with his guitar perched on his lap, singing where the video had left off. 

David choked back a sob at the sight, standing frozen in place, with his hands clasped over his mouth.

_ Hear those magic reindeer click _

_ 'Cause I just want you here tonight _

_ Holding on to me so tight _

_ What more can I do? _

_ Cause baby all I want for Christmas is you _

_ Oh all the lights are shining _

_ So brightly everywhere _

_ And the sound of children's _

_ Laughter fills the air _

_ And everyone is singing _

_ I hear those sleigh bells ringing _

_ Santa won't you bring me the one I really need? _

_ Won't you please bring my baby to me? _

Patrick stood and lifted the guitar strap over his head, placing the guitar gently on the couch without missing a beat. He closed the distance separating him from David, and pulled David’s hands down and intertwined their fingers. Squeezing tight, he brought their hands to rest on his chest, where David could feel his accelerating heart beat. He continued singing, unaccompanied.

_ Oh I don't want a lot for Christmas _

_ This is all I'm asking for _

_ I just want to see my baby _

_ Standing right outside my door _

Dropping David’s left hand, Patrick palms David’s cheek, wiping an errant tear away with his thumb.

_ Oh I just want you for my own _

_ More than you could ever know _

_ Make my wish come true _

_ Baby all I want for Christmas _

_ is You baby _

Patrick paused. Lips grazing David’s, voice barely above a whisper, he finished the song.

_ All I want for Christmas is you baby. _


End file.
